


Caleb's Lullabye

by glorfys_glorioushair



Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, Critical Role Spoilers, Drama, Fire, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Drama, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16890501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorfys_glorioushair/pseuds/glorfys_glorioushair
Summary: The tragic tale of Caleb Widogast as told by the lyrics from Hozier's song, "Arsonist's Lullabye".**SPOILERS** for episode 18 and beyond





	Caleb's Lullabye

**Author's Note:**

> Fellow Critters,  
> Ever since I listened to Hozier's song, "Arsonist's Lullabye", I fell in love with the fire-fueled passion and ambition that it speaks of. It reminded me of Caleb, our favorite hobo wizard, and I knew I had to write something about his tragic past and most importantly, his plans for the future (which are still unclear at the moment). It took me quite a long time to write all of it, edit it (hope it's good enough), read it along with the music, but it's finally finished for you all to enjoy. Hope you like it!  
> **NOTE: if you haven't listened to this song here it is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U2Kc8WSwjq8  
> **DISCLAIMER: All the love and credit goes to the cast and crew of Critical Role. The story of the Mighty Nein belongs to them and is theirs to build. This is just my way of coping with the feels. Also the song belongs to Hozier, because I don't have the capability to write incredible music like him.

_When I was a child, I heard voices_  
_Some would sing and some would scream_  
_You soon find you have few choices_  
_I learned the voices died with me_

Caleb jerks awake, cold sweat thick against his already oily skin. It’s as if the flames in his dreams had really been that close to his face. However, it is not the fiery darkness that is the reason he is now panting against his pillow. It is the screams. The varying screams that are a constant chorus in the heat. Some that are familiar to him and others that are yet to be known. He would rather be consumed by that deadly fire than to hear the distant tunes of his mother singing and his father laughing throughout the void of his dreamscape.  
_It’s driving you crazy._  
These are his demons. The moments of his life that are long and gone, but still hold him against his will in the dark hours of night. The past is a monster, one he can’t stop reliving in and one he is unwilling to let go of.  
Caleb sits up in bed, the wooden frame creaking at every movement. It takes him a moment for his eyes to adjust and to remember where he is—above a tavern in the gnomish town of Hupperdook. His head aches from the flurry of activity of the last two days. The drinking competition, dealing with parentless children, and dismantling a “death bot”. He shifts in bed, wincing. Evidently his side still hurts despite some clerical healing.  
He hears Nott’s quiet breathing from the other bed across the room. Caleb’s coat hangs from the bedpost and he tugs the worn fabric off it, and wraps it around himself like a blanket. He quietly snaps his fingers and his beloved ginger cat, Frumpkin, appears in his lap. He strokes the cat’s soft fur. Between the three of them, his heartbeat falls from its rapid staccato to a steadier, calmer pace.  
Taking a shaky breath, he summons a tiny flame on his finger. He’s been trying to practice control and he finds that the concentration comes easier day by day. It equally fills him with glee and horror. The glowing tendril sways in the drafty air that sweeps in from under the door. Fire was his reflection and with it, he is sucked away again, not by sleep but by memory.

__

_When I was a child, I'd sit for hours_  
_Staring into open flame_  
_Something in it had a power_  
_Could barely tear my eyes away_

  

He is a toddler now, snuggled in his mother’s lap on a particular chilly Zemnian night. Her rocking chair creaks in time to the crackling hearth in front of them. Caleb reaches out with chubby fingers, letting the warmth spread up and through his hands.  
“Feels good,” he says. “Happy.”  
His mother pulls their blanket with its tattered ends and patched up holes tighter around the two of them. “It is happy, isn’t it? Helps keep us warm—” she takes his hands and rubs them with calloused fingertips. “And safe from the cold where the wind bites at your nose.” She taps his nose.  
Caleb’s face breaks into a toothy grin. She smiles in response. There is so much love in that familiar curve of her lips, it’s something that even as a child, Caleb can see and feel.  
He is about to ask her why the wind would do such a thing, when his mother speaks again.  
“Fire has its uses, like lighting our home and cooking to fill our bellies with warm food.” She tickles his side and he giggles, the question fleeing his mind.  
“But,” she began, her tone more serious. “Fire can have its dangers too.”  
“Like Old Viktor’s barn?” Caleb interrupts.  
He remembers when his father had to run out in his trousers to go and help put out the fire with some of the other men in town. He caught a glimpse of the black wood one time when he was headed to the market with his mother. The fire had eaten it like a moth-hole on a shirt.  
“Yes, just like that. Always remember that fire can only be controlled so much, but if wielded correctly, it is your friend. Ja?”  
“Ja.”  
He gazes at the flames dancing in the fireplace, his eyes captivated by the motion. His ears are drawn to the pops and the whistles they make against the logs.  
Suddenly the wind snaps against the shutters on their two front windows, causing Caleb to cry out in alarm. He digs deeper into the crook of his mother’s arm, letting the screech of the gust disappear beneath the comfort of her natural warmth.  
She strokes his soft waves of hair. “Shh...it’s okay sweetie. You’re safe and sound in here.”  
He closes his eyes. “I love you Mama.”  
“I love you too my little lion”  
Then she starts to sing. A smile creeps onto his lips as he drifts off to sleep with the sound of his mother’s lulling voice and the pleasant scent of burning maplewood.

__

_All you have is your fire_  
_And the place you need to reach_  
_Don't you ever tame your demons_  
_But always keep 'em on a leash_

  

Caleb is a young teenager, a crown of cornflowers mussed in his red hair. He stands alongside his best friend, Eodwulf, who has a ring of violets in his sandy curls.  
On his other side is Astrid, a girl who he had met before, but one he doesn’t know very well. Her hair is brown gold which is adorned with a sunflower wreath. She has eyes of bright azure. She glances his way just then, and there’s a warmth in his stomach he’s unfamiliar with. She gives him a small smile. It’s a shy, nervous smile with fluttering pulses of excitement. Caleb understands the feeling and returns the gesture.  
The three of them are heading off to Rexxentrum, the capital of the Empire, where they would study at the famed magic-teaching Soltryce Academy. The fact that a simple town in Zemni Fields had produced not one, but three youths is rare and incredible. The floral crowns tangled atop their heads is the true exhibit of Blumenthal's pride.  
Caleb, along with Eodwulf and Astrid look out at the cheering crowd of townsfolk. He has only seen a group this big during the Harvest Close. He knows that the capital will have much more people than this and the thought quickens his heart.  
His eyes seek out his parents and finds them making their way to the front. He also sees Eodwulf’s parents and sister coming and Astrid’s parents have already reached her, scooping her into a big bear hug.  
“We’re so proud of you honey,” Astrid’s mother says.  
Caleb glances over to his best friend to see Eodwulf’s father place a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. Eodwulf’s sister beams.  
“There’s our brave little lion!”  
Caleb is suddenly swarmed by his mother’s grey shawl.  
“Thanks,” he says, voice muffled against the frizzy wool. “You don’t have to make this such a big deal.”  
They pull away and his mother puts her hands on her hips. “You think I care that the rest of the town is here? You’re talented! It’s something worth paying attention to. You’ve always been so incredibly smart and you’ll have the chance to be more than you ever dreamed.”  
“You have the potential for greatness and this is just the beginning Caleb,” his father says, pride glinting in his brown eyes as he wraps his arms around Caleb.  
With his free hand, Caleb’s father hands him the two leather-bound books he’d been carrying. Caleb recognizes one to be a book on the fundamentals of magic that had been his grandmother’s, then his mother’s. Now it seemed to be his.  
Caleb is speechless. “Are you sure? This is yours, Ma. I don’t--”  
“You do to deserve it. You’re the one going to the magic school.” His mother smiles and Caleb’s lips quirk a bit too.  
He turns to the other book. “What about this one?”  
“It’s a journal I had tried to start years ago, but I failed to keep up with. We thought you should have it,” his father explains.  
Caleb is overwhelmed by the swell of love that one feels from their parents at times like these. He looks up from the books he already loves and meets the warm gaze of his parents.  
“Thank you. I can’t wait to start writing.” He then takes initiative and gives them a big hug.  
“Take care of Frumpkin will you?”  
His mother chuckles. “Of course, dear.”  
“That cat’s already fatter than a pig,” Caleb’s father grumbles and the other two burst into laughter.  
A whistle rings out sharp into the mid-morning air, halting the farewell conversations. Everyone looks towards the source, a squirrelly carriage driver. “All ready to go! Sally on up!”  
Caleb’s mother pecks him on the cheek one more time, before Caleb follows Astrid and Eodwulf to the carriage.  
“We love you Caleb!”  
He turns and waves. “Love you too! See you at Harvest Close!”  
They wave back and he clambers in after Eodwulf. Caleb eases into the foreign velvet seat. He gazes out the window looking out over the crowd. It’s mostly dispersed now, the townsfolk heading off to go home or to work. Astrid’s family is waving wildly as the wagon rolls away. She leans out the right half of the window, hair whipping in the wind. “Bye! Love you!”  
Eodwulf’s family has joined the crowd, but Eodwulf seems okay with it. Caleb knows that his friend wasn’t on the best terms with his father.  
Caleb finally rests his eyes on his parents, his mother in her weathered clothes and his father in uniform. Both have their arms wrapped around each other. They stand there until the carriage descends the hill and Caleb can’t see them anymore.  
His heart drops for a moment, then he sees Astrid’s excited grin and Eodwulf’s eager sigh of relief. His thoughts turn to the future the Academy holds in the store for the three of them.

__

_When I was 16, my senses fooled me_  
_Thought gasoline was on my clothes_  
_I knew that something would always rule me_  
_I knew the scent was mine alone_

  

Air. His teenage lungs gasp for air. He’s having an out of body experience, watching the townhouse burn, while his feet are firmly planted on dying grass. It’s as if he is besides his makers, the red tendrils peeling away his own flesh into ashes; the pain too excruciating to find escape.  
The three students of Trent Ikithon have now graduated, the tests passed. The couple of years they had toiled and worked for the knowledge and acceptance from their cruel mentor has paid off. Or has it?  
Caleb isn’t sure as the yells and shrieks of fear fade out over the roar of the flaming building. All of a sudden, he realizes he’ll never hear their voices again. He crumbles to the ground, loose dirt clinging to his pants. A curl of a faint wind from the north, ruffles his disheveled hair.  
“Caleb.”  
_Astrid._  
He hears her buckled boots clomp up from behind him. “Caleb, are you okay?”  
Words try and can’t form in his mouth because his throat is parched, drier than a desert. A hand upon his back and then she’s in front of him.  
Eodwulf lets out a low whistle somewhere nearby. “We did it. We passed. We’re mages now!”  
“Yes, it’s exciting!” she says. There is happiness in the reply, Caleb thinks, but tinged with a small dose of confusion. The confusion that is swallowing him up like a whale.  
“Caleb, what’s the matter?”  
A strand of Astrid’s shimmery hair tickles his nose as she levels with him, her palm pressing against his forehead. Her touch is jarring and cold. Yet the young man’s mind is far away, beyond space and time. Her eyes are familiar clear oceans of concern when he sluggishly meets her gaze. But they’re not enough to quench the fiery images he has just witnessed. And the screams...the screams. Oh the terror that radiated from them.  
That was when he lost it. Lost control of his abilities, his confidence, and his damned sense of pride. Lost it right there in the field, watching the mess he had caused by his own hands eat away at the source of his roots. His memory dims at the thought of their smiles and he fades into darkness.

__

_All you have is your fire_  
_And the place you need to reach_  
_Don't you ever tame your demons_  
_But always keep 'em on a leash_

Caleb is a man now, though at the moment he is unsure of his exact age. His head is still muddled and his heart, his heart, won’t stop pounding. He has just killed a man and taken his jacket. It reeks of tobacco when he tugs it on. He leaves the man’s body—he had been one of Trent’s men—with its smoldering smell of burnt flesh. He has no time to hide and dispose of it as he needs to get away from this hell hole of emptiness.  
He somehow finds his two books and grabs a winter hat that hangs from a rack near the door. He turns to leave the room, but pauses at the glint of something around the dead man’s neck. He crouches besides the corpse and produces a necklace with a simple gold rune hanging on it. Despite his fogginess, Caleb registers what it is. It’s got some kind of concealment charm on it.  
He puts it on and exits the room. The walk past other workers fills him with great anxiety, when he imagines one of them recognizing him and chasing him down the corridor. The vision does not come to pass. Instead he leaves the compound silently, greets the open air like a newborn child, and bolts.  
He has never run this much in his life before. He has never a reason to. Until now. When he finds himself surrounded by fir trees and nothing but the stars in the sky, he stops. He slumps down against a boulder, tries to calm his frazzled nerves as sweat soaks down his face.  
He summons a palm of fire, then takes it away. He knows now. He knows what he did to those jailed people. To his mother and father. To that man. The lies that were sprinkled in the glass of truth. The draught in which he had willingly sucked dry. Astrid and Eodwulf had been right alongside him.  
Trent had made him a murderer. A killer. A filthy person. His parents hadn’t been plotting against the Empire at all.  
_You’re a fool, Caleb. A stupid fool._  
Tears form in his eyes. Angry tears aimed towards himself. He wipes them away. He would have the rest of his life to feel this constant guilt. Right now though, he needs to find a warmer coat, maybe a thick scarf. He feels his chin, its jagged smoothness from terrible shaves cold to touch. A beard might do.  
He gathers his broken ghosts and blends into the night with no sense of direction.

__

_When I was a man I thought it ended_  
_When I knew love's perfect ache_  
_But my peace has always depended_  
_On all the ashes in my wake_

Caleb is back in the bed, the flame on his finger gone, replaced by a smear of soot. Frumpkin meows softly and the man of thirty-three years buries his face into the cat’s warm fur. He isn’t going back to sleep anytime soon, he realizes. The nightmare is still alive and howling.  
He still considers himself a disgusting person. His dark secrets cloud him daily, and he knows, oh he knows, that by staying with this group will only hurt them. He glances over at the huddling green figure. Nott and Beau know his secret now, what is stopping him from telling the others in the nearby future? The group is so close the capital. So close to the birthplace of his destruction.  
He cares about Nott and is aware that he trusts her. Caleb’s okay with that. He has her faith in him which is a still startling concept. He is beginning to care about the others, much to his dismay. Jester’s wide cheshire grin and sweet countenance, Fjord’s intriguing sword, Beau’s abrasive nature, Mollymauk’s vibrant light, and Yasha’s quiet strength are all growing on him.  
They are a different bunch, ones that seem to have their own worries and hidden agendas. He runs his fingers through cat fur. He knows what they are to him. They remind him of himself.  
Caleb sighs. He can’t let these emotions control him again like how he was with Astrid and with Eodwulf and the other various people he had loved in the halcyon days of his youth. That time has passed. It has come to surprise him that he could feel this way after the hurt and the heartbreak, both of which still sting like a knife.  
He drags his mind over to his plans for the future. The books at the library in Zadash had only been the tip of the iceberg.  
_I want to bend reality to my will._  
Just thinking about it makes him giddy. It’s the same feeling he gets whenever he learns a new spell. This power is the fundamental truth of what he wants to do and two of his traveling partners are aware of it. Caleb knows that there will be bumps and divots in the road ahead, but there will be a reward richer than gold.  
The scruffy wizard leans over to pick up the assorted spell books and journals that he has amassed in just a month. The dawn is barely waking and he has already turned to studying and scheming.  
The screams and memories are still present, but he wields them expertly as he dips his pen into the inkwell balanced on his knee. Nothing is going to stop Caleb Widogast from claiming his desires. He is willing to let it all burn away.

__

_All you have is your fire_  
_And the place you need to reach_  
_Don't you ever tame your demons_  
_But always keep 'em on a leash_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> <3 glorfys_glorioushair


End file.
